


erode

by YouAreMyDesign



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Bathing/Washing, Bestiality, Biting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Will Graham, Breeding, Breeding Kink, Choking, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Cages, Collars, Come Swallowing, Creampie, Crying, Dildos, Dom Hannibal Lecter, Edgeplay, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Hair-pulling, Humiliation, Knotting, Leashes, M/M, Masks, Master/Pet, Multiple Orgasms, Muzzles, Oral Knotting, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Possessive Behavior, Puppy Play, Sadism, Sex Toys, Shame, Shaving, Shock Collars, Sub Will Graham, Top Hannibal Lecter, Violet Wand, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 11:08:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20446148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouAreMyDesign/pseuds/YouAreMyDesign
Summary: "You're normally so good for me, darling. What on Earth has gotten into you?"





	erode

Will flinches as Hannibal gently pushes a thumb behind his balls, forcing the swollen, warm and sensitive flesh tighter to the edges of his cage. Hannibal tuts, and swats him gently on the balls, causing a sharp fissure of pain to tighten Will's thighs and make his shoulders tense, his fingers clenching.

"Be still," Hannibal commands. "I would certainly like to avoid damaging you."

Will tries, and grits his teeth, clenches his eyes shut as he feels the tip of Hannibal's bent scissors drag, open, down the very edge of his perineum until they meet the hard ring of the cock cage. He feels the sting of cool air after, goose bumps rising as Hannibal strips another tiny slip of hair away with his scissors. He hums in satisfaction, releases Will's balls, and Will hears him rinsing the scissors in the bowl of water beside Will's knee.

Will tenses again as the tip of them returns. His hair is dry, so it stings under the touch of the sharp, flat edges of the metal, and he's so, _so _very aware of how close they are getting to the more vulnerable parts of him. Hannibal snips, and Will gasps and shudders at the tiny brush of air against his balls, tenses and lets out a pitiful, fearful whine.

Hannibal hums, and tugs sharply on his balls again, but Will can't stop himself freezing up again, giving a minute headshake when Hannibal tries to cut more hair away. Hannibal sighs, but pats the inside of Will's thigh, slides up and inward, and Will breathes out.

"Perhaps something a little more precise," he muses aloud. Will knows it's not for his benefit. He gasps, rutting his knuckles against the bathroom tile as Hannibal gently, idly, kneads at his thigh, to the sensitive crease where his tendon is flexing and tense. Then, his hand leaves, and Will is left trembling and too warm, as he sets the scissors to one side and stands to retrieve his shaving kit.

He opens it and sets it down on the counter, and a click of his tongue makes Will look up. Hannibal smiles at him, and unfolds the strop from the kit, letting one end of it dangle. Will opens his mouth, catches it between his teeth, and lets Hannibal pull tight. Hannibal's eyes are warm with approval, his knuckles white as he wraps his fingers around the other end, and unfolds the straight razor one handed, running the gleaming blade up and down the strop to sharpen it. It comes perilously close to Will's face on the downstroke, and Will does his best not to flinch, merely stares up at Hannibal as he watches the blade sharpen, wielded by so capable a man.

Once he's satisfied, he lets the strop go slack, and Will releases it, bowing his head when Hannibal sets the strop down and lets his hand fall, giving Will a single, cursory pat. Then, he gathers the little spray bottle of shaving foam and returns to kneel between Will's spread legs.

He dips his fingers in the bowl of water, and Will stiffens, gasping as Hannibal slides his thumb harsh and wet between his thighs, fingers rubbing over Will's tender rim and pushing inside him without warning. Will moans, shaking finely, hips arching up in instinctive need to get Hannibal deeper, even though the stretch is sudden and too dry for comfort. He falls to his elbows, spreads his knees out wider as Hannibal angles his fingers down and presses with his thumb, trapping his prostate in a brief but harsh squeeze, sending another fissure of pleasure up Will's spine. His caged cock twitches, and starts to leak.

Hannibal withdraws, huffing a laugh at Will's soft, wanton moan, and slicks the rest of him up, then sprays the shaving cream across his exposed skin. It's cold, and Will gasps, bowing his head so his forehead rests on his forearm, his fists clenched.

"Hold still," Hannibal commands him again, and uses his hand to spread Will wide, fingers parting to expose his hole and perineum. The straight razor is cold, too, and Will tenses but holds still as he feels it kiss his skin, lick between his legs, ridding him of hair and shaving cream. Hannibal rinses it, and does it again, and again, and when he's done Will is shaking, feeling so utterly exposed and bare at the absence of hair between his legs.

Hannibal cups his balls again, and pulls them tight, and Will moans, wincing and doing his very best to hold still as Hannibal takes the scissors again, giving his balls a neat trim. He can't shave properly with the cage and ring around Will, so he doesn't bother, but Will can see the spark of the metal edges, knows that it would take one wrong move, one sudden jolt, for them to find his skin and make him red.

When Hannibal is finished, he cups Will's thigh again, kneading at the muscle as Will whimpers, and listens to him washing the razor and the scissors, reach up to set them on the counter, and place the bowl beside them to be dealt with later.

Will moans weakly, rolling his hips, his cock leaking as Hannibal teases the now-smooth skin behind his balls, up to his hole, and pushes inside with two fingers again. He curls his fingers down immediately, brutally fucking against Will's prostate as he trembles, grits his teeth, clenches his eyes tightly shut. He feels so sensitive, his skin tingling from the lick of the razor and Hannibal's gentle, assured touches. His body tenses, tightens, and he moans and runs his teeth against his knuckles as Hannibal pinches his prostate again, thumb rubbing in smooth circles on the outside while his fingers pet over it from within.

He's starting to sweat, feels it slick behind his knees, the small of his back, beneath his messy hair and making the skin trapped by his collar chafe uncomfortably. His hips rock, trying to get Hannibal to touch him more, unable to stop himself whimpering and moaning as Hannibal continues to fuck him, hard and deep enough his knuckles rub against Will's sensitive rim whenever he presses deep.

He can't stop the ragged, desperate sound he makes when Hannibal twists his fingers, adds a third. It's tight and dry and stretching him so wide, and he flinches, bearing down in uneven spasm, his cock leaking uncontrollably as Hannibal takes him right to the edge of orgasm.

Then, he stops, and removes both his hands, and Will moans weakly, wanting to collapse to his belly and rut against the floor even though he knows the little bathmat will do nothing but make it hurt. His cock is swollen to the edges of the cage, pressing up against the warm metal, trying to fuck against nothing but air.

Hannibal stands, leaving Will gasping and shaking, and clears away the bowl and shaving kit with the same deliberate meticulousness with which he does all things. Will clenches his jaw, forces himself up onto his hands and knees, and looks up to watch him as he empties and rinses the bowl in the sink, and puts the shaving kit away along with the scissors.

Then, he returns to Will, and gives him a fond, affectionate smile. He reaches down and loops his fingers through the large D-ring on the back of Will's collar, pulling him close until it's difficult for Will to touch the floor with his hands.

"Come, darling," he murmurs, and leads the way out of the room, Will pressed up against his leg and struggling to keep up. He groans, robbed of air, as Hannibal takes him out of the bathroom, through his bedroom, and downstairs to his study.

He releases Will once they're over the threshold, and walks to a little table beside one of the big, padded leather chairs in his study. Will gasps, trying to catch his breath, and follows on his hands and knees, obedient to a fault. He settles as Hannibal does, content to curl up between Hannibal's feet and rest with his cheek on his master's thigh, but Hannibal catches him by the collar again, yanks him upright, and Will meets his dark eyes.

Hannibal's head tilts, his lips pursing, and then he stands again, releasing Will. On the table is a familiar glass dildo, arcing in a fine twist that makes it appear as three bulbs of increasing size. The tip has a sharp curve like a cupped hand, designed to tug on Will's rim and press against his prostate when it's inside him, and Will shivers, biting his lower lip when Hannibal takes a hold of it, and turns it in his hands as if contemplating its appropriateness.

Then, his eyes snap to Will, and every part of Will's body goes tense with anticipation. "Present for me, darling," he commands, and Will swallows, bowing his head in obedience. He turns around, puts his elbows on the hardwood floor, bows his back and lifts his hips, his knees kept together so that he's presenting as much as possible. He's warmed by Hannibal's approving hum, and Hannibal sits again, cupping Will's hip and turning him so his offered hole is facing Hannibal.

Hannibal leans forward, the leather creaking under his weight, and slides his hand between Will's thighs again, cupping gently. Will moans quietly at the feel of it, Hannibal's big hand and powerful fingers digging into the muscle. He resists the urge to spread his legs, because he knows that's not what Hannibal wants.

He feels the wicked curl of the toy pressing against his rim, cold and smooth, and it slips into him easily, angled down to tug at his rim as he moans for it, trying to lift himself higher still. The first bulb rubs against his rim, the angle _just _perfect, but not deep enough, so Will isn't getting the prostate stimulation he needs. He grits his teeth, praying for patience, for he knew from the moment Hannibal put the collar on him tonight that he would take his time – his master is a sadistic man, taking great delight in Will's torture and his submission, and Will likes making him happy. He gets rewarded when he makes Hannibal happy.

He doesn't feel wet enough, but when Hannibal pushes the bulb against his ass, he's helpless to stop it. It's too smooth to clench around, to fight out, and Will growls as it stretches him, the sound turning into another ragged moan when he feels the soft and sweet press of the hook against his prostate again. Brought so close to the edge last time, he's eager to chase the feeling, working his hips back with frantic, gasping moans as Hannibal holds it still, content to let him rut himself against the toy like a needy little bitch in heat.

He hears Hannibal spit on the toy, slicking the edge of the second bulb with his thumb, and Will whimpers, shoving back so he can take the second bulb too. It's as big as three of Hannibal's fingers, and fills him up so nicely, the first bulb and the hook trapping his prostate as he starts to sweat again, shaking in earnest.

His fingers curl to fists against the floor and he ruts his forehead against it too, wanting to brace himself, to fuck back. His breath mists on the hardwood, his cheeks feel like they're on fire, and Hannibal's gaze is like lashes to his back. He paws at the collar around his neck, gasping as he manages to cut off his own air just for a moment.

Hannibal snarls, and pulls the toy out, turns the hand between Will's thighs and tugs on his balls harshly enough that Will shrieks, trying to close his legs, releasing his collar and pawing instead at Hannibal's hands, trying to save them.

Hannibal stands, and yanks on Will's hair, makes him bow in a brutal arch so he can see Hannibal's face.

"Have you forgotten the rules, boy?" he snaps, and Will swallows, wets his lips, tries to shake his head but can't for how tightly Hannibal is holding him. "This," he curls his fingers in the D-ring, yanks hard enough that Will's vision momentarily goes white, "is mine. This," he releases Will's collar, sits back down and forces his hand between Will's thighs, tugging on his caged cock, "is mine."

Will gasps, writhing in place, cheeks flushed with shame that he's made his master angry. He wants to curl in on himself, and gives a plaintive, pathetic little whine, only for it to turn into a rough scream as Hannibal, without warning or pretense, shoves the toy back inside him, past the hook, the first bulb, the second, and then the third, stretching Will wide and making him tremble.

"If you can't behave yourself, I will throw you outside like the rest of the dogs," Hannibal growls, twisting the toy and pulling it back, Will's ass clenching around it and trying to keep it inside. He howls weakly, shakes his head wildly, and Hannibal shoves the last bulb back in and Will feels tears of pain heat the corners of his eyes. His gut clenches with horror, and he shakes his head again, gasping as Hannibal fucks him with the toy. It's a sharp, brutal thing, making him choke on his air and pant around each raw, desperate moan.

"Please, master," he moans. "I'll be good."

Hannibal pauses, and sighs through his nose – a rough, short sound, like he's trying to regain his decorum. His hand flattens on Will's ass, forcing him to lean back as Hannibal shoves the toy inside him again, slower but no gentler. "I should hope so," he replies. "I don't tolerate disobedience from my animals, Will."

Will shakes his head again, wants to reach out and touch Hannibal, but he knows that will only earn further punishment. So he does the next best thing, pushing his hair to one side and tilting his head to show the collared, vulnerable arch of his throat.

Hannibal growls again, and cups Will's neck, pulling him back further and nipping hard at the corner of his jaw. "Good boy," he purrs, and Will shivers, blinking up at the ceiling so that he can force his tears out. Hannibal likes it when he cries. Hannibal nuzzles his cheek, smiling, and licks one of his tears away. "It's alright, darling, I'm not angry with you. How could I be?"

For emphasis, he twists the toy inside of Will, bringing the bulbs in fierce pressure against Will's prostate. Will gasps, rutting against it, grasping as his thighs as Hannibal holds him still and fucks him with the toy, hard enough that it hurts, coaxing more frustrated tears from Will's eyes. His cock aches – one of Hannibal's rules, to keep him caged. Puppies can get into all sorts of trouble if they get it into their heads to get their little dicks wet in some willing bitch, so Hannibal cages him, and trained Will to come from prostate stimulation alone. It was a slow process, full of Will's cries and tears and soft, frustrated howls, but the first time he managed, he would have done it all again just to see how wide and proud Hannibal's answering smile was.

He's getting close again, grits his teeth and huffs through his nose, knuckles turning white as he clenches his fists. Hannibal pulls the toy back so the hook presses with brutal accuracy against his prostate, rubs the edges of the second bulb around Will's rim to stretch him wide, and then, right as Will feels like he will come or lose his damn mind, Hannibal pulls it out completely.

Will moans raggedly, wincing. "Hannibal -."

Hannibal growls, and sets the toy down, slapping his palm against Will's cheek. It's not terribly hard, but the sting is shocking, and Will shivers, pressing his lips together so he doesn't beg again. "Did I ask you to speak?" Hannibal demands, and Will shakes his head, feverish and trembling. "You're normally so good for me, darling. What on Earth has gotten into you?"

Will sobs, turns his head and nuzzles frantically at Hannibal's neck. Still, he says nothing, because he doesn't want to earn more of his master's wrath.

Hannibal sighs, and pulls away from him, and Will whimpers loudly, frozen at the idea that he went too far, pushed Hannibal too hard, and now Hannibal will leave him, leaking and torn open and desperate. Hannibal clicks his tongue again and Will turns, obedient to a fault, and Hannibal puts a hand on his forehead, pushing him back, and leans down to press the suction cup of the toy on the floor between his knees.

Hannibal leans back, spreads his knees, and places his hands on the wide armrests of the chair. His head tilts, and his brow lifts.

Will swallows, wincing internally, because it's obvious what Hannibal wants. He shuffles forward and lifts to his toes, raises his knees and looks to Hannibal in question, before Hannibal shakes his head. No touching. Will bites his lower lip and moves until he's on his feet, and can lean back, bracing himself on his straining arms. He feels so exposed like this, on display, his cock cage shining and wet and his chest flushed darkly red. Hannibal's eyes are ravenous on him, and as Will angles himself and sinks down, Hannibal's lips part, and his tongue licks out to wet them.

Will moans, but forces himself to meet Hannibal's eyes as he sinks onto the toy. He straightens, wincing at the unforgiving straightness of the dildo, moves until he can take it kneeling, his legs spread wide and his hands around his ankles, giving him something to brace against. He can't bend so far as to take the third bulb in, the base isn’t tall enough, but it's enough for Hannibal's eyes to flash with approval, and that's all he needs.

He rocks his hips carefully, mindful of accidentally dislodging the toy from the floor, and he watches his master as he fucks himself on the glass cock, groaning when his swollen and abused prostate gets more of that delicious, burning friction. His knees slip, slick with sweat, along the floor, and he whimpers and ducks his head when Hannibal smiles.

He closes his eyes, unable to bear the weight of his master's gaze on him. He wants to come, he wants it desperately. His stomach tenses, his thighs try to close, he lets out a weak, hoarse noise -.

And then freezes completely, as a sharp ricochet of electricity jolts down his spine. It burns around his neck as the collar flares hot, snapping through his tender muscles and down to his chest, making his heart stammer in place. He gasps, and looks up at Hannibal with wide eyes.

Hannibal's head tilts, his brows rise. He has a remote in his hand. "Continue," he says, spinning the remote lazily between his fingers.

Will sobs, bows forward and puts his hands on his knees, forcing his body to keep going as he fucks himself on the toy – he goes slower, tries to move so the bulbs and hook don't touch where he's most sensitive, but he can't stop himself doing it. His hands slide in, gripping his thighs tightly. Hannibal allows that. He drags further, nails in his sweaty skin, dips his fingers behind his balls to try and get pressure -.

Another shock runs through him, this one much more powerful, as it connects between the shock collar and the toy in his ass. He cries out, panting, heaving, every part of him twitching and tense as the violet want shocks him from the inside. He's sobbing, cheeks burning hot and wet with his tears, his hair slick against his face and neck. His shoulders ache, his belly feels raw and ripped open, and the violet wand shocks him again whenever he moves, trying to get away from it.

Hannibal clicks his tongue, and Will goes still. Even then, the clench of his ass around the toy, seeking, makes more shocks of electricity strike up his spine, churn in his stomach. He's breathing so hard, his heart racing so fast, that he might be sick. He can't swallow fast enough to stop a single bead of saliva falling from the corner of his mouth, dripping down his chin.

Hannibal's chin lifts. "Keep going, Will," he commands, and Will clenches his eyes tightly shut, gasps when Hannibal leans forward and slaps his cheek again. The brief second before their skin touches conjures another arc of electricity between them, and Will's teeth feel numb when he licks over them, inside his cheek to soothe the sting. "You will look at me when I'm talking to you."

Will swallows harshly, and nods, clenching his jaw and daring to turn his head and press his nose to the meat of Hannibal's thumb. More electricity tingles over his lips, his cheek. He breathes in deeply, shuddering as he forces himself to sink back down, the hook of the bulb bracing against each muscle as it yields.

Hannibal's thumb brushes the corner of his mouth, a brief show of tenderness, and then he sits back again. Will is forced to continue, making the toy breach his body, shuddering when the electric shocks continue, making him spasm so uncontrollably tightly around each bulb, and the hook when it butts against his prostate. He's sobbing openly now, tearing at the floor until his nails bend back. Still, despite the pain, he can feel himself getting close to the edge again. He chases it frantically, rubs at his perineum even though he gets a shock whenever he does it, and cries when Hannibal growls and reaches forward, forcibly yanking his hand away.

He snarls, and fists his hand in the back of the collar, yanking Will off the toy by the scruff of his neck. "Clearly you can't be trusted with yourself, boy," he snaps. "Lift your hands."

Will wants to shake his head. Wants to beg 'Please, master, please' and hope Hannibal is merciful. But he merely slides to his knees, takes a deep breath, and offers his hands, forearms pressed tight together, fingers twitching and lacing.

Hannibal undoes his own tie, pulls it between his hands until it's tight, and wraps it around Will's wrists, tight and firm enough to make his hands flex, to begin the first eddies of cut-off blood flow that will make his hands cold, then unbearably warm, unable to bear touching anything. He hooks them behind Will's head and loops the knot through the D-ring, so Will can't move his hands and keeps them lifted, and then hauls him back towards the chair.

He removes the toy from the floor and places it on the table again, and sits back down. His gaze burns Will, makes his chest tight and cold with humiliation and shame. It should be so easy, just to relax and trust Hannibal to get him there where he wants, to be good and not touch because his body belongs to Hannibal and Will shouldn't touch things he doesn't own, but it's so _difficult_. Being in a collar, on his knees, puts him in the mindset of something more animal than man, that is merely instinct and desire.

He swallows, and shudders when Hannibal cups his chin in a gentle hand. Hannibal's eyes are softer, now, and he leans forward and gently kisses Will's sweaty forehead, and Will sobs because the tender brush of his lips feels so much worse than the shock of the collar and the toy. It burns him, slices right through his skull, and his mind sings such a high chorus of love that it hurts him to swallow it back.

Hannibal's nails drag over his scalp, pushing his sweat-soaked hair from his face, and he shakes his head. "Such a pity," he murmurs, and Will swallows, another flare of shame heating his cheeks. "I thought I had trained you better than this. Clearly we need to go back to the basics."

Will opens his eyes, lifts them, not understanding. A small undercurrent of genuine fear runs down his spine at the look in Hannibal's eyes.

He sits back, and unbuttons his suit pants, pulling his cock out through the hole in his underwear. Will's mouth waters, and he gasps, openly admiring the thick shaft, the flushed and leaking head as Hannibal touches himself. He lips part and he wets them, wanting nothing more than to dive in and ruin his throat on his master's cock. He's good at that – Hannibal made sure of it – he won't fail this time.

Hannibal smiles at him, and clicks his tongue, pulling Will forward with the hand on his chin. It's hard to move with his hands bound, but Will manages, shouldering his way into place between Hannibal's knees. Hannibal grabs his hair, angles his cock and forces it between Will's spread lips, tightens his grip and shoves Will down until his nose is buried in the bunch of clothing around the base.

He moans raggedly, choking around the thickness of Hannibal in his mouth. He's large enough to thoroughly clog Will's throat and Will lets him, gagging for it as Hannibal lifts his head, and forces him back down. Will's throat spasms, his mouth flooding with saliva, and he lets his neck go limp, completely surrendering to Hannibal's hands as the second slides into his hair and moves him as Hannibal likes. It's loud, obscenely wet, as Hannibal doesn't allow him the chance to swallow, and he's drooling all over Hannibal's cock, choking on it, so thick and heavy on his tongue, painting it with bitter precum. He groans, twisting his hands in Hannibal's tie, and tries to touch his fingers where they're buried in Will's hair.

Hannibal growls. "Good boy," he breathes, and Will is gratified to hear how wrecked and low his voice has gotten. He tightens his lips, sucks as hard as he can, until his cheeks hollow and Hannibal, abruptly, slows. His hips are twitching, trying to seek something to grind against, though it's useless with his cock caged. He whimpers as Hannibal pulls him to the head, shuddering as Will licks and sucks messily at the sensitive flesh. When Hannibal comes, his claws gentle and his teeth grow dull again, and maybe then he will be merciful.

Hannibal sighs, and slides his hands to Will's jaw. He cradles the soft give of his throat, and gently, gently eases Will back down. Will goes, groaning in relief as Hannibal's cockhead sinks into his mouth, down his throat, deep enough that he's sure Hannibal can feel the bulge of it in his neck.

Then, Hannibal pulls at his clothes, revealing a ring at the very base. Will's nostrils flare, and he doesn't resist as Hannibal forces him down further, until he chokes and tenses, and settles Will's teeth around the back edge of it.

"Very good boy," Hannibal purrs. Will moans again, trying to breathe through his nose. Hannibal's thumbs rub at the corners of his jaw, easing between his molars, petting his cheeks so that he can feel his cock inside them. "So good, Will."

He sounds breathless, and Will's eyes close, relaxing into it as Hannibal keeps him down. He swipes with his tongue, tasting the sweat and precum gathered on the ring, and then -. He frowns, tonguing at a little strip of plastic attached to the ring, like a hose. He can't feel where it goes, but Hannibal huffs a laugh, and one of his hands releases Will, sliding into the pocket of his rumpled suit pants.

Then, Will's eyes widen, as he hears a button _click_, and then a soft whirr of something motorized. The ring begins to expand, pushing behind his teeth, stretching his jaws impossibly wide. He whimpers, panic seizing him, and Hannibal grips his scruff tightly and holds him down as he tries to pull back.

"Easy," Hannibal murmurs. "Easy now, darling. Just take it."

Will shudders, tears welling up and falling from the sensation of his mouth being stretched. He can only think of the word _knot_. Hannibal's knot is in his mouth – he shudders, gagging, his throat clenching up so tightly, his mouth flooding. He can't close his lips, can't seal them, and saliva leaks from the corners as Will tries to breathe. His fingers curl up tightly and he whimpers again.

"Good boy," Hannibal purrs, petting through his hair, over his shaking shoulders. "What a good boy. That's it, darling." Will whimpers again, can't open his mouth wide enough to release the knot, and he has to simply kneel there and take it as Hannibal pets him. He tries not to panic, but even now it's verging on the edges of hysteria. He's hyperventilating, shoulders heaving.

And then Hannibal slaps his cheek, shocking him into stillness, and Will moans.

"This is what puppies like you are made for, Will," Hannibal says, gently, coaxing like he's trying to persuade Will to bare his neck to Hannibal's knife. That's what this feels like, on the edge, where one wrong move could see him torn open and bleeding out. "Made to submit, greedy for as much as they are given." He sighs, and Will can tell he's smiling. It makes more tears fall. "Would you like to come, my sweet boy?"

Will can't nod, locked as he is, and he dares not make a sound. He squeezes Hannibal's fingers in his hair instead.

"I wonder what you'd do for me to let you," Hannibal muses. Again, Will cannot speak, so he squeezes his fingers, brushing them along Hannibal's knuckles. "I bet you'd do anything right now, wouldn't you?" Will swallows as best he can, lets out a harsh breath. He tries to tilt his head, to meet Hannibal's eyes, but he can't move enough to do it, so he lets his chest vibrate with a wretched noise and hopes that gets the point across. "You'd do anything?"

Will taps, once. _Once for 'Yes', twice for 'No'._

Hannibal smiles. "Very well, then," he murmurs, and covers Will's ears. Will whines, for he can hear Hannibal saying something, but doesn't register the words. He's awash in the ocean waves of his own rushing blood, trembling, and then Hannibal's feet press insistently at his thighs, coaxing him to lift onto his knees so he's bent over Hannibal's lap instead of simply kneeling there.

Then, he feels a wet nose at his thigh, and his eyes flare open.

Hannibal releases his head, so he can hear, and he laughs when Will tenses and whines. "Don't act surprised, darling," he purrs. "I've seen the marks on you – scratches not done by my own hand. You only have one dog that isn't neutered, and given that we are not at your home, I hope you'll forgive me for acquiring one of my own."

Will's eyes widen, and he breathes out harshly, nostrils flaring.

"His name is Goliath," Hannibal says, and Will feels a broad, wet tongue lick between his legs, over the cage and around his balls. He tenses, whimpering. "He's quite a large animal. Larger than any of your dogs, but I have it on good authority that he's an excellent stud."

Will pulls his lips back from his teeth, clenches down around the knotting ring _hard_, but that only seems to incense Hannibal, for his thighs flex under Will's shoulders and he lets out a heavy, hard breath of arousal.

"Goliath," Hannibal murmurs, and Will hears the dog woof softly in answer. "Come say 'Hello'."

Will shudders as a great weight lands over his hips, Goliath's forelegs scratching deeply over his back and down his flanks. He doesn't understand – how could Hannibal have _known_ he…? Oh _God_. Humiliation and shame stab through him like a knife, and he hates how he moans as Goliath licks broad and wet over his shoulder. The dog's weight forces him to collapse on Hannibal's cock, and it shoves deeper down his throat, and Will screams as the dog ruts, pointed tip of his cock soaking wet with precum, and finds Will's hole and thrusts in.

Despite his shame, despite the fact that he's choking on his master's cock while a dog is mounting him, despite the panic tearing through his chest, it only takes two thrusts of Goliath's massive cock for him to come. He seizes, dribbling weakly onto the floor between his knees as the dog mounts him, panting hard and fucking Will with abandon. Will winces as his prostate is battered, the dog's cock thick enough to make his stomach clench, his lungs bruising from below. He moans brokenly around Hannibal's cock, and then again when Hannibal clicks the button and the swelling of the knot ring goes down.

Hannibal doesn't let him pull off. He grips Will's hair and fucks his abused throat harshly, snarling in pleasure as Will, too weak and fucked-out to resist, lets himself be used. He's sobbing openly, frantically trying to pull in breaths as his vision greys out, and Hannibal comes at the same time Goliath slows, pressing deep and rutting.

He swallows his master's come because that's what good puppies do, and Hannibal forces his teeth down and swells the knot as, at the same time, Goliath shoves against Will's ass with undeniable pressure. Will can't name the sound he makes, but he shudders with aftershocks as Goliath snarls, drags his paws down Will's flanks, leaving deep welting scratches, and forces his knot inside of Will's trembling body.

The dog huffs, and lifts off, turning in place while his knot is locked, and Will can't pull away because of Hannibal's knot still in his mouth. He's trapped, locked on two giant knots, pumped full of come and _still, _the knot feels good. It's shoving against his prostate with undeniable and constant pressure, and Will works his hips, his fingers flexing as he moans brokenly. At least with Hannibal softening, he's in no danger of choking, and he laves his tongue over his master's cock, sucks at the head and gives the shaft kittenish licks as Goliath pumps him full, and Will comes with another soft cry, heaving and wretched with tears.

Hannibal's fingers drag over his cheeks, gathering the mess of tears, saliva, and his own leaking come. He wipes it through Will's hair, over his closed eyelids, under his nose. Then, he deflates the knot again and hauls Will up by his hair, and Will flinches, wanting to hide away, but Hannibal grips his throat and squeezes until Will gasps, opening his eyes.

"Does he feel good, darling?" he says, his voice halfway between a rough snarl and an undeniably pleased purr. Will whimpers, unable to stop himself rutting back onto Goliath's cock, his huge knot. It _does _feel good, it feels fucking amazing, and Will's blood is singing, his heart beating heavily in his chest. He can come again, again, he feels it washing over him like a wave, feels his stomach tense, sink in, gives a helpless little jerk as he clamps down around the dog's bulbous knot inside him. Hannibal smiles. "This is where puppies like you belong – on your knees, getting bred at both ends. So greedy."

Will's mouth is wet with Hannibal's come, and he feels a tiny trickle of Goliath's seed leaking out of him around his knot as the dog gives an experimental tug. He whimpers, seizing up, coming again with a violent shudder.

Hannibal hums, lifts his eyes. He unhooks Will's hands and lets them drop, limp and useless, still tied. He nuzzles Will's sweaty hair, pets over his shoulders, and a punched-out, wretched noise leaves Will as Goliath's knot deflates, and he pulls out. The dog shakes himself off, and Will is too tired to even see what he looks like, what breed he is.

"Goodbye, Goliath," Hannibal murmurs, and the dog huffs, trotting away with a click of nails on the hardwood floor. Will sighs, drifting and high off of the powerful release, his cock still giving weak little spurts onto the floor.

Hannibal sighs, and straightens, looking at the mess between Will's knees. "Oh, dear," he murmurs, tutting, and Will swallows, shifting back as Hannibal watches, bows his head and lowers his mouth to the floor to lick up the thin, clear puddle of fluid he left. Hannibal gives a soft hum of approval, and when Will is finished, he lifts his head and sees Hannibal standing, grabbing the glass wand.

Will's eyes widen, and he whimpers, pawing at Hannibal's leg with his bound hands. "Please, no," he begs, frantic. He can barely speak because his throat is so swollen and fucked out, and his voice comes out like he's been gargling glass. "I'll be good, I swear. Please."

Hannibal smiles. "Relax, darling, this isn't a punishment," he promises, and pets through Will's hair gently. Will swallows, tense but in no condition to refuse. Hannibal prowls around him, cups Will's hip and angles him to his elbows and knees. Will is so slick, gushing with it, raw-open and red. He fits the hook at the tip to Will's gaping hole and pushes the toy in all the way to the base.

Will groans, shuddering, and Hannibal stands, leaving it in him, and circles to his head. He crouches, and unwinds the tie from Will's wrists, revealing red, chafing marks. He thumbs over them, and tuts softly, as if disappointed that Will put up a fight. Will winces, swallows, keeps perfectly still.

Hannibal leaves, for another moment, and Will pants against the floor, absently rubbing his dirty cheek against his knuckles. When Hannibal returns, he is holding a clear, plastic mask in his hands. There are holes at the mouth and nose, and it's shaped in such a way it will curl beneath Will's cheeks, bridge his nose, cling to his jaw like a wide hand.

He swallows, and lifts his face in readiness.

Hannibal's smile is warm with affection. He kneels down in front of Will, cups his face in unbearably gentle hands. When he places the mask on Will, it is reverent, his eyes dark and shining with adoration. Will wets his lips, breathes in when Hannibal kisses his forehead, and secures the straps around his head.

Then, he stands again, and winds the tie beneath the face strap, through the D-ring to pull Will into a sharp arch, and makes it a make-shift leash. His gentleness is gone, as he yanks on the leash, making Will choke, his abused throat spasming at the pressure, and Hannibal's free hand firmly grips the base of the toy, fucking Will back onto it in short, brutal, rabbiting thrusts.

Will moans weakly, scrabbling against the floor, unable to bow and fuck as he prefers. Still, Hannibal has angled the hook to a merciless degree, brushing over Will's sensitive prostate, spreading open his slick thighs, baring his wet hole. He's a breeder, no better than an open hole for his master and studs to use as he sees fit, and the thought makes him moan and shiver, gritting his teeth behind the mask as Hannibal fucks him hard.

"Are you going to come again, darling?" Hannibal purrs, so quiet over the rush of blood in Will's ears.

Will wants to. He doesn't want to. _Fuck_. "Please," he whispers, as loud as he can, forcing his fucked-out throat and his limp tongue to move; "I want you inside me."

Hannibal hums.

"Please," Will says again, so close to breaking. "I -. Hannibal, _please_. Please fuck me."

Another sound, torn from Hannibal's chest. Snarling. Closer.

"Get his fucking come out of me," Will says, rougher now. He braces himself on his injured wrists and turns his head so he can see Hannibal's face. "_Please_. Want your come. Want _your _knot."

Hannibal stills. His nostrils flare wide. His jaw bulges at the corner. Will's got him by the throat now. Will grits his teeth, locks his jaws. Shakes. "Put a pup in me."

Hannibal snarls, and yanks the toy out of Will with a savage pull. Will barely has time to lower himself to his elbows and knees, spread his legs to the proper mounting position, before Hannibal is on him. He grips Will's hips fiercely and bites his neck, _hard_, over the collar, and fucks into where Will is wet, open, sloppy with come. Will moans, franticly pawing at the floor, stretching his arms out in front of him and submitting to his stud's brutal mounting, crying out brokenly, 'Yes' and 'More' and '_Hannibal_' into the air.

Hannibal claws at him, over the lines Goliath left, deep enough Will knows they will bruise, if not bleed outright. He moans for it, arching into his master's weight, in love with how Hannibal's shirt chafes against his sensitive, flushed, sweaty back. He'll burn, he'll welt, he _wants _it. He can't catch his breath and he doesn't want to.

Hannibal bites him again, slows abruptly, digs his nails into Will's soft thighs. "Come for me, you greedy thing," he commands, and Will moans, shuddering, bowing his head, slamming his fist against the floor as he does just that. His thighs flex, spreading further, his feet kicking as Hannibal holds him close and ruts against Will's prostate, knotring teasing just inside his sore rim.

Then, one of Hannibal's hands withdraw, and he inflates the knot, locking them together. Will cries out, raggedly, and shudders as Hannibal grunts, fucking the knot out of him, then working it back in, and he comes when Will's body eagerly, openly, accepts it.

Will manages to keep upright just long enough for Hannibal to pull the seat cushion from the chair, and it's large enough for Will to pillow his head and chest against it, his hips lowering so he's in a mimic of the child's pose. He's shaking, panting hard, doubts his heart will ever slow as he flies through his most recent orgasm, absolutely flooded and shaken to the core.

Hannibal's hand flattens over his heart. Slides down, to tease at the bulge of his knot from the outside, and Will whimpers.

A shadow moves, and Will lifts his head, blinking at the sight of Goliath as he walks into the room, panting, and lays down casually in front of the fireplace. He's huge, with the head of a mastiff, all black, his jaws wide and his ears sharp and angular. His barrel-chest and thick tail are packed with muscle, his legs stocky and strong. He looks like the kind of dog that was bred purely for the sake of ripping a man to shreds.

Will shivers, flushing with shame as he looks at the dog. He clears his throat, and Hannibal nuzzles him, gently unwinds his tie and undoes the mask, setting it to one side. Will works his sore jaw from side to side, until it cracks, and he winces.

"How long have you known?" he whispers.

Hannibal smiles, and kisses his red, tear-stained cheek. "Long enough to ensure I found a suitable partner for you, when you're here," he replies. Will's blush darkens, he bites his lower lip, shifting restlessly. But he can't go anywhere – he's too weak to push Hannibal off him, and in no condition to try and negotiate the still-swollen knot. "Under my supervision, of course."

Will swallows again, turns his face to the cushion to hide.

"Will." Hannibal cups his throat, forces him to lift, and rises enough that he can tilt Will's head to one side and kiss his sore, ruined mouth. "I happily embrace, and welcome, anything that satisfies you, darling." He huffs a laugh. "I'm sure there are some things that you submit to, purely for my sake."

That's different. Will wants to say it. He would do _anything_ to make Hannibal smile at him like that.

Maybe that's the point.

Hannibal leans down, gently kissing at Will's tear tracks, the come clinging to the edges of his mouth, the sweat dripping from his hair. He sighs. "You were exquisite," he breathes, and Will's lips twitch in a smile, his chest growing warm at the praise. "You took everything so well, behaved better than I could have ever imagined." His hand flattens over Will's heart again, spreads wide. "I'm so proud of you, my good, sweet boy."

Will swallows, shuddering at the surge of desperate affection those words cause in him. He turns his head, silently asking for a kiss, and Hannibal meets him, tasting the come on his tongue, purring in pleasure; a bass rumble of his chest against Will's back.

Hannibal kisses him, kisses him again when Will moans and paws weakly at his hair. He smiles, brushing their noses together. "I think it's time for a bath," he suggests, and Will nods, biting his lip as Hannibal lifts from him.

"Hannibal," he murmurs, tentatively, prompting him to go still. "Will you…. Can you keep the knot on?" He wonders how he can still be shy, but the fact of the matter is Will likes the stretch, he likes how full it makes him feel, and with his dogs it's always so wonderful, but so short-lived. "In the bath?"

Hannibal smiles, and nods, leaning down to kiss him again. He runs a hand through Will's hair, nails scratching pleasantly, and pushes on the remote so his knot deflates, pulling out. Will shivers, feels the heavy gush of Hannibal's and Goliath's come pouring out of him, and rubs his thighs together, clenching up to try and keep it in.

"Come, darling," Hannibal murmurs, and helps Will to his feet. They leave the mask, toy, and cushion discarded, for Hannibal to clean later. Goliath remains where he is, happily dozing. Hannibal pulls Will close by his collar, kisses him ravenous and passionate, until Will's trembling muscles tighten and his body arches in a helpless press. Unlike before, on the way down, Hannibal allows him to stay on his feet, though his fingers never remove themselves from the D-ring of his collar. He leads Will upstairs, and back into the bathroom, and when the tub is full and his clothes are shed, he carefully eases Will back onto his knot, and bathes him, whispering soft words of praise and encouragement as Will rocks his hips, presses helpless little whines to Hannibal's neck, and comes over and over again, until the water cools, and he's too weak to move.

It is with a laugh and affectionate smile that Hannibal removes the collar, washes Will's neck with his lips and warm tongue, and carries him to bed.


End file.
